If The Shoe Fits
by Goons
Summary: Harry, if you’re saving everyone from themselves, from each other; who’s going to save you?--"Playing the savior of Harry Potter?" I ask. "If the shoe fits..." RHH. A fic about frienship when it really counts.


**If the shoe fits…**

**By: Goons**

**Summary: **

"_I used to think you were the strongest person in the world, but I've been thinking. Harry, If you're saving everyone from themselves, from each other; who's going to save you?" _

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter.

XXX

Harry's shoulders trembled slightly.

I've always imagined him as some kind of superhero—in reality, he is—but he wasn't what superheroes were meant to be. Harry wasn't happy; he wasn't filled with joy; he didn't even want the title. Somewhere amidst the end of my fifth year and the beginning of my seventh year, I've begun to open my eyes. Harry Potter wasn't the charming hero from those fairytales that saves everyone and is loved by all. In truth, the painful truth, Harry was just a boy.

No, not just any boy, but the only boy I've ever come to understand. (Other than Ron but that was with great difficulty.) I understood why his shoulders trembled as he watched the sunset. I could hear the tears falling from his eyes even if I can't see them. Those boyish tears of lost youth and I'm lost. I could come out from behind the shadow and comfort him but I am not sure if that is the right thing to do.

Harry was so strong; he had to be, for me, for himself, for everyone else. Harry had to be the guiding light, the one that saves us all. The good when everywhere else was full of evil, the light when everything else was replaced by darkness. Then what was Harry without that light? Who was Harry when he was alone?

I didn't know. I couldn't title him. Harry by himself was just Harry. He wasn't the Boy Who Lived. He wasn't the hero. He wasn't a Potter. Alone, Harry was just Harry.

When Sirius died, Harry just sunk deeper into the shell we've all made for him and not once had I ever heard him let out a sob. He doesn't think I know. He doesn't know I know that at night, when no one's watching, those large drops of tears fall from his green eyes like there is tomorrow.

His shoulders continue to shake but there are no sobs, no movement other those lonely shoulders moving up and down. I can't even hear him breathing and yet, which each tremble of his shoulders, I fall apart.

I'm truly evil; I wanted Harry to break. I wanted to watch him fall to pieces, shatter like thin glass so we could be able to mend him back. I think that's why I always hide in the shadows. I think I'm standing here, watching his back tremble and analyzing him, because I want to be by his side when he combusts.

I truly am a horrible person. There's no use denying it. When the shoe fits, wear it. I'm not going to shy away from being completely selfish when I know it is who I am—well, who I am when it comes to Harry. I want to help but for once, I don't have the courage. It scared me, the thought that I could do little to change things.

It scared me, knowing that one day when Ron and I are all married, Harry might just stay Harry. It scared me that one day I might have to move away from the darkness and never come back.

Everything is so messed up. I blame it on that dick face, shit faced, murdering, life ruining, son of a—

I could go on but it just gets uglier. It's worthless anyways. There are no words strong enough to describe that dirty, rotten, piece of—

Even if I had lines and lines of words, it wouldn't be enough.

I hate Voldemort for destroying everything good and pure and I hated him more for destroying the epitome of good and pure—Harry Potter. More than that, I hate myself for not having the courage to restore him. I hate myself for standing in the background and watching his shoulders tremble. I hate myself for not being someone Harry truly needed.

I wish I could have a sex change and become Sirius. Weird as it may sound, I truly think that it would be for the greater good. Of course, I would miss my mom and dad and Crookshanks and my cousins and aunts and uncles, but listing off all these family members while Harry had no one makes me shiver with guilt.

I wanted to stop that trembling. I wanted to…to what, I don't know.

The trembling stops and I can't leave. I should leave but when I think about how deeply I care, I don't want to leave. I don't think I can leave.

He's still staring at the fire so I move towards him, making sure to be silent. Step. Pause. Step. Pause. Step. Pause. Step. Pause. Now, I am right behind him, the warmth of his body tickling my bare legs.

I see him stiffen and he turns around to look at me.

There is silence, that kind of tormenting silence where we both stare at each other, not sure what to say, not sure what to do. It feels like we both should speak and pause dramatically, but I find myself making the move.

"Don't you hate it, Harry? Don't you ever tire of being the one with the entire burden?"

He turns away from me, his gaze drifting back to the fire. There is silence and he shrugs after a long pause.

"I don't have the entire burden. Dumbledore, Ron's dad, his brothers, all the people in this house, everyone shares this burden, even you. You, Hermione, ever you share this burden. I don't carry this alone."

I turned cold, how could he be so selfless? How could he be so modest?

"Yeah, but you have the most…you're the one that has the most pain. You're the one losing the most. You're the—"

"Stop being dense, what about" He paused as if contemplating what he should say next. It's some secret I don't know. "What about all the people who lost their family members? People like Ron who faces losing a mother, or a brother everyday? I don't lose much compared to all that."

"Right," my whisper sounds hoarse and tense even to me, "because there isn't much left for you to lose."

He spins around and fixes and angry stare towards me. "Shut up. You are such a child, you know that? Stop trying to psychoanalyze me. Stop thinking that you understand. Stop thinking that you are the almighty supreme in Harry Potter knowledge because you act like some peeping-tom that follows me around and stand in the dark while I"

"While you cry! While you shake because you can't handle losing everything!"

His eyes widen in shock, fury, sadness…I can't tell. All this time analyzing him from some corner of the room, thinking I understand but when faced directly with him, I am shell shocked. What can I say to make everything better?

He turns around, back facing me, "Go away, Hermione. Go back to your room and stop following me around. This isn't some class; you don't have to study me. Stop acting like a smart ass."

I stand there and watch his back, tears glistening in my eyes. He didn't insult me, not really, but I can't stand being shooed. I can't stand the fact that he thinks my being here is because I want to be a smart ass.

I drop to my knees and wrap my arms around him. I lean forward to rest my chin in the crook of his neck. My arms are around his shoulders, my hands are locked in front of his chest and I can feel his heart beating. I can feel his chest move up and down with every breath.

"I didn't mean to analyze you. I was just…I used to think you were the strongest person in the world, but I've been thinking. Harry, if you're saving everyone from themselves, from each other; who's going to save you?"

He didn't reply so I keep on going, too lost in my own thoughts to actually pay attention to anything he has to say.

"What if one day you fall over because of the weight on your shoulders? What if one day we wake up and you're not there?" My voice is hardly above a whisper. "What if one day you won't be anything but a memory?"

There is silence and I can't continue. I'm afraid my voice will crack and I would cry because I don't want Harry to comfort me. I don't want him to have to calm me down. I don't want Harry to have to care for me because I want to care for him. I want to be able to sit next to him during nights like these.

I hear the door open behind me. Clumsy footsteps and somewhere to my right Ron settles next to the both of us, his large hands moving around us, his long, lanky arms circling the both of us so that the three of us are tangled together in some sort of web.

My tears are running down my cheeks now and through my blurry vision, I could see Ron and Harry turn red. I smile; boys will be boys, when will they grow up? It's only a hug.

We stay together, the three of us; no words need be spoken between us because we have an understanding.

Ron opens his mouth for the first time and speaks, though shyly, "You know, mate, you don't have to be alone." He stops and swallows, "because Hermione and I, we're…we're here for you."

He looks to me, the little speech having turn him as red as a tomato and Harry squirms a bit. Ron squirms too and I giggle. "We're always here, Harry. Know that with us, you don't have to play the strong one because we'll be happy to take some of that burden any day."

Ron adds his piece though I can tell he's growing redder by the second. "I don't mind playing the hero every now and then." He shrugs. Harry shrugs. I smile.

Harry sighs before turning his head awkwardly, for the first time in this odd conversation, meeting my and Ron's eyes. His head was turned at an odd angle so he could see both of us. He smiles and says, "Who's going to save me?" He stops and his smile widens, "I was hoping maybe you guys would do it."

Ron smiles, "If the shoe fits…"

I giggle, the thought of us three together like this delighting me. "You're feet are far too large Ron."

Ron breaks away from our little web and stares at me with a feigned hurt expression. "You bloody bint, you've just ruin the moment."

Harry nods, playing along Ron. "I was about to burst into tears. Merlin, Hermione, just destroy the building emotions."

I laugh and swatted at them. I would be truly happy if we could always be like this. I don't need the world to be happy and perfect, well, sure I want Voldemort to die, but I don't need rainbows and sunshine for the rest of my life. I just want this; this moment when we are free to laugh and joke together knowing that as different as we all are, we are perfect together. Because, we share the same shoes and we're walking down the same path.

If one of us falls, they others are going to be there to help that person up. If it would always stay this way, I wouldn't mind having Ron's feet size. I don't think Harry would either. And Ron, I don't think Ron hates it all too much himself.

We share a look from our different places in the room and smile at each other. Harry opens his mouth to speak and awkwardly stares at us from behind his glasses, green eyes shining. "Thanks, guys."

Ron and I share a look. '_No,_' we both seem to say, '_thank you, Harry_.'

_Thank you for being with us. _

_Thank you for being all that you are_.

Instead, we both laugh and move closer to him. "What are friends for?" I hear Ron say before we break out in laughter.

In the mist of war, in this moment where we've seem to connect, in this time when life and death is unsure, everything is perfect—if just for a moment—but with Harry here, it will get better. I'm sure of it.


End file.
